A Child Forgotten
by incog
Summary: A new generation begins and with this new generation arise new evils...
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of these characters or the Devil May Cry franchise for that matter. I'm making no money from this fic and it's entirely for entertainment!

My first fic people. Read and review!

An aged man lay propped up against a tree, taking a long drag on his cigarette. He tilted his head back and let out a steady stream of smoke into the air around him. At the end of his exhale, the man's lungs gave in slightly and he stifled a cough. No one was within earshot. It was his own shame that caused him to stifle the noise. He lifted his free hand to his head and toussled his hair which only served to remind him even more of his age. What was once a slick, brilliant white mane had lost most of its flair and shine. The evening sun set before the man. His position against the tree atop a grassy knoll gave him a comfortable and almost enchanting view. With a smooth, quick, single motion, Dante rose to his feet and started walking back to his manor.

The manor itself was a sight to behold. Three storeys high, it overlooked a small pond. The style of the structure itself had remained intact since its creation near the end of the dark ages. Menacing gargoyles complete with rhinestone eyes overlooked the grounds at strategic points like silent sentries. Lush, creeping vines covered an entire side of the manor, adding to its subtle charm. Dante strode across the front yard to the double door entrance. Before he could pull the doors open however they were parted by a spritely young boy of about fifteen. Unlike his father, Grante had sandy brown hair. Freckles added a sort of innocence to his already playful aura.

" Errm... I cooked ta-day"  
"Heh, 'evenin to you too kid. Oh yeah? What you got prepared for me"  
"Pizza"  
"Sounds great. Let's get to it."

As Dante watched his son he saw a bit of nervousness in his actions. He was doing a decent job of trying to hide it, but it was once Dante's job to pick up such subtle changes in one's mood...

The two ate in silence in front of the television. It was on but neither father nor son was paying attention to the show. Grante seemed too occupied with his pizza, taking small nervous bites, another sign Dante had already noted to himself. As he studied his son, Dante's mind drifted to Grante's mother. She had been a prostitute. Dante was capable of alot better, but that was a rough time for him and he needed comfort. Considering the disease filled conception it had been on the part of the prostitute it seemed a miracle to the doctors how healthy Grante looked at birth. Dante knew it was the blood that flowed through his veins that had saved Grante however... Whether or not Grante knew that yet himself however, Dante sensed might be revealed tonight.

"Dad... I"  
"Hmm?"

Dante was careful not to show too much concern and continued munching on his pizza, eyes now facing the television.

"I-broke-this-kid's-arm-today-he-was-being-a-total-jackass-you-hafta-come-in-to-school-tomorrow..."

It all came out in one long breath, each word barely out before another had begun.

"I see"  
"Dad"  
"Hmm"  
"What"  
"Hurry up and speak, kid"  
"WHAT... THE HELL... AM I?"

Dante put down his pizza and took a sip of his soda.

"What do ya mean, Grante?"

"I mean, the guy's like three years older than me and I could have probably floored him with my eyes closed and one hand behind my back! It was like he was movin in slow motion... I could almost tell where he was going to attack before it even happened"  
"Kid that's just your adrenaline"  
"I threw him clear across the hall and into a wall! He left a dent!"

Dante put down his drink.

"Come on kid, it's time you found out who your good ol' pop really is." 


	2. Chapter 2

The night air was cool and inviting. At fifteen Grante was built like a boy a year younger, much different to his father who had grown at a significantly quicker rate. His skin was pale and his eyes were innocent green gems of optimism. Looking at his son in this regard Dante had always hoped that he would never have to show him the truth of his lineage. Like most hopes in recent times however, this one had proven worthless.

The pair walked along the edge of the pond towards the forest. None of the usual night sounds were present save for the wind blowing through the trees. This only served to raise the tension that already existed. Grante glanced down at the sword in his father's hand. The blade was long and sharp, unrusted despite being locked away in a cupboard for fifteen years. The hilt was masterfully crafted of a metal Grante could not identify. This was truly a weapon to be reckoned with. Dante stopped walking suddenly and turned to face the pond. It's thick, black, murky water perfectly reflected the full moon and stars. The water's edge lapped gently against the reeds on the shore, giving the impression of a blackhole that swelled and shrank constantly.

"Grante... We're not exactly, normal"  
"No shit."

Dante chucked. Although physically Grante looked nothing like his father, a cocky personality would sometimes surface that was frighteningly familiar. Choosing not to say anymore Dante let his actions speak instead. Gripping the sword called "Angard" tightly in his hand he began to focus. Nothing seemed to happen at first.

Shit, old man you're way outta practice here.

Then slowly whisps of a smoke-like substance materialized and took shape around Dante's body. Seconds later the translucent figure of a demon had enveloped him. Grante's eyes widened in horror as Dante became the beast. A fully formed demon now towered before the boy. The demon was covered in blue-green scales and a row of spines made a path down its back. Pearl white eyes were set in a skull shaped like that of a bat, just above two slits that were probably an excuse for a nose and purple lips that were curled into a permanent snarl, revealing sharp, serated teeth.

Grante stood his ground but the beads of perspiration that slid down his chin and neck were a dead giveaway. He was scared. Despite his fear however, Grante still managed to utter some words.

"Okay... What the hell?"

In alot less flash Dante reverted to his regular form. He clenched and unclenched his free hand while simultaneously rocking his neck from side to side; reacquainting himself with his body.

"What the hell?" Grante repeated , a twinge of annoyance now sifting itself into the fear. Dante fixed his gaze on his son.

"Alright kid, it's like this..."

Dante lay awake in his bed that night. The walls loomed up on all sides around him. Red curtains were draped over tall, stained-glass windows. Dante's own personal touch which he was now admiring. The design on the window itself was that of a field. In the middle of the field stood a woman in a sky blue dress. In each hand she held the hand of identical looking children with silver hair...

Dante's mind snapped back to the evening's events. Grante had finally been given some truth about one side of the family he came from. He finally understood part of the reason he had no relatives. Dante could not bring himself to explain Grante's mother's side of the family however. He would save that for another time. Dante had some questions of his own at the moment. It had taken Grante a considerable amount of time to finally show his powers in such force. Would the time it laid dormant within Grante have some added effect now that it had finally revealed itself? Why did it choose this point? Would Grante's attitude change now that he knew more about who he was?

Okay that one's pretty obvious Dante admitted to himself.

At the other end of the hall Grante lay in his own bed. His room was alot more modernised than his father's. Videogames and music cd's lay strewn across the floor. He had made many futile attempts to take his mind off of what he had seen and heard before giving up and retiring to bed.

Monster... Grante, you're a freak  
freak  
freak  
monster

The words tumbled over and over in his mind. It was almost like an echoing voice repeating the words at different speeds, sometimes overlapping eachother. With a grunt of frustration Grante pulled the pillow over his face and stared into nothingness.

The next morning was one of tension between father and son. An invisible force had developed between the two that steadily built itself up. A loud confrontation was inevitable. Grante bit into his left over pizza violently, a scowl etched onto his face. His hair was a mess and there were bags beneath his eyes. His lack of sleep was alot more noticeable than Dante's. Instead of facing the confrontation, Dante decided it best to walk away. He rose to his feet and walked out of the house and into the fall weather. Grante growled in frustration and flung his glass against the wall where Dante had just walked past a mere minute ago shattering it to pieces. 

Bastard!

If both Dante and Grante had known it was the last time they would see eachother alive however, things may have went differently. 


End file.
